


that building something

by or-ng-c-ss-dy (o_r_ng_c_ss_dy)



Category: All Elite Wrestling
Genre: Birthday, Drinking, Feelings, M/M, Mild angst maybe, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23798443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_r_ng_c_ss_dy/pseuds/or-ng-c-ss-dy
Summary: maybe it was the best birthday he could ever have.
Relationships: Chuck Taylor/Orange Cassidy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	that building something

**Author's Note:**

> i wasn't going to post this on ao3 because it's pretty short but i figured, hey, it's chuck's birthday for another thirty minutes. i might as well! i think i've posted every fic with a bit about not being sure about it for a lot of reasons, but im sure about this one. even if it's short, im sure about it.
> 
> i wanted to write something happy. i think this is the closest i can get to happy right now, set in a universe a little better than ours right now. 
> 
> so, happy birthday, chuck. i hope you don't read this hah but i hope that those who do enjoy it!

The only word that Chuck could use to describe the bar was bustling, as lame as that sounded. He could barely see the top of Orange Cassidy’s head as he bobbed slowly through the crowded bar, pushing his way through people to get back to the little table they had laid claim to in the most secluded corner. They couldn’t get far away from the noise of the crowd, they could just drink at home if they wanted to do that, but it was better than fighting for a seat at the bar.

The bartender knew them, of course she did. The place was between the arena and their apartment, close enough to stagger between each place, so they were regulars to the point that she knew what they both liked to drink. She had them poured before Orange even got to the bar, he just had to grab them and come back, pushing his bourbon and coke towards him.

Orange had said that the first round was on him, as a birthday present. He had laughed at the time, the first round was never on Orange, but he had been deathly serious about something for once in his life in a way that was touching. Because Orange was never serious about anything except when it came to him, apparently, tugging his glasses down to give Chuck an even stare that told him everything he needed to know.

So the first round was on him, and he was holding his screwdriver up in Chuck’s direction until he got the picture, tapping their glasses together with a clink and a grin that had Orange’s lips quirking up at the sides.

Chuck watched as Orange took his first drink, the way his eyes fluttered shut behind his glasses. He looked soft in the yellow lights of the bar, the light overhead casting a glow on him, casting a glow on the parts of his friend that Chuck tried not to notice. 

He distracted his brain by taking a drink, deciding to forget the way that Orange looked under the yellow lights, the way he looked in the center of the ring, and the way he was looking at Chuck with that unreadable expression that Chuck had learned to read easily. That expression that he learned to read but hadn’t learned to deal with quite yet, how Orange felt and how that made him feel.

He just wasn’t ready yet. Not for what it could mean, that soft fondness that he could read like a book. Instead, he took another drink and shot Orange a practiced grin from the lack of burn. He had sprung for the more expensive bourbon, as much as he still had a soft spot for the Kentucky Gentleman for obvious reasons, he was getting way too old to be drinking it just because he had named himself after it.

“Good stuff, OC,” he drawled, grin not falling off of his face, “thanks for taking me out tonight.”

Chuck thought that he sounded too soft, trying not to cringe internally. But Orange just smiled in a way that made him feel even softer, made him have to try even harder not to cringe. Because when had Orange’s rare smiles turned into a show of that building _something_ between them?

“Of course. Happy birthday, Chuck.”

He never knew how to react when someone wished him a happy birthday, he couldn’t remember the last time he had actually been happy on his birthday. It was always a little too strange to him, a little too focused on the fact that he was getting older. But, for now, he still felt young and Orange was smiling at him in earnest, and he figured that it might be the closest to happiness he’s ever felt on his birthday in a very long time.

Maybe it was because Orange was there for him.

He’s not drunk enough to think about kissing Orange, but the thought comes anyway. Of leaning over the table, telling consequences to go fuck themselves and confronting whatever might be between them head on. He could deal with all of that shit later, the thought that he might be making it all up in his head, the thought that Orange was just being a good friend, just for the feeling of Orange’s lips against his for the first time.

But the thought that it could be the last snapped him out of it. He couldn’t ruin the way he looked under those lights, in their favorite bar, he couldn’t be the one to wipe away that rare smile.

So he didn’t kiss him. But he let himself reach across the table and squeeze Orange’s hand. And, when Orange squeezed back, he figured that it could be enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! follow me on tumblr if you want, @ [ or-ng-c-ss-dy](https://or-ng-c-ss-dy.tumblr.com/), i also post my fics there.


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